Smile Because it Happened
by Shelby Bean
Summary: Going back through five moments in Sam's life that molded his ideas of sex and relationships. 5) Sam stumbles across one of Gabriel's porn films. 4) An unexpected post-hunt hookup with Jody. 3) When Sam was roommates with Brady. 2) Sam remembers his first girlfriend. 1) Young Sam waiting up for Dean to come home from a date. Also check out the art by AmberDreams on livejournal!
1. Casa Erotica, 2017

Sam stood in the foyer for a few seconds, letting the stillness envelop him.

The hotel room was fancy, and having the place to himself was an added luxury. Instead of two full-sized beds, there was one king bed taking up the center of the room. A giant flat-screen television was mounted to the wall on a movable arm, so Sam could watch TV from anywhere in the room.

Grabbing the remote, Sam kicked off his shoes. He turned on the TV and flipped through the channels, landing on a random basketball game. He wasn't due at the station until tomorrow, so for now he could be lazy and enjoy all the niceties of this place.

Too many sodas on the drive out here were catching up with him. He tossed the remote on the bed and hurried around the corner.

The bathroom was huge, and sparkling clean. The tub was the largest he'd ever seen, with a mirror covering the entire wall behind it. On second glance, he noticed jet nozzles along the bottom, and realized it was actually a jacuzzi tub. He felt a smile pulling at his mouth. He knew exactly what to do with the rest of his evening. Sam turned the faucet on and cranked it to the hottest setting. Steam was already beginning to fill the room and cover the mirrors. As he watched the water level rise, he heard the television from the other room. Old habits told him to turn it off, not waste electricity.

As he picked the remote off the bed, he noticed something odd about the room. On the wall opposite the windows, there was a heavy brocade curtain covering part of the wall. Curious, he drew the curtain back. Sam was amused to find himself looking down at the jacuzzi tub.

He peered around the corner into the bathroom, intrigued now. What he thought to be a mirror was actually a window into the rest of the room. Sam laughed to himself. He could actually watch TV from the tub! Grinning, he flipped through the endless premium channels that came free with the fancy room. Then his thumb hesitated over the button. Porn. Of course. No one would be stumbling in to catch him, so why not?

The two women on screen were moaning and gasping as they clutched at each other. Sam frowned at the television. One of the women had fair skin and long, dark hair. The other was taller, with blonde curls and a glowing tan. His two favorite types. He turned up the volume, then tossed down the remote. Sending up a silent prayer of gratitude to the casting department, he made his way back into the bathroom.

He checked the water temperature and turned on the jets. As he stripped off his clothes, he remembered that his brother wasn't here to scold him for leaving dirty laundry strewn about. Sam left everything on the floor. Climbing into the tub, he hissed as the scalding water covered his tired legs.

The moans of pleasure from the television washed over him along with the water. He let his eyes glaze over as he sank down into the tub. Lazily, he reached down and stroked himself. Sam had spent his fair share of time bringing sounds just like those from partners who looked almost exactly like that. It didn't take much to let his imagination fill in the rest. He licked his lips and pulled at his growing erection.

Sam was utterly relaxed. There was no need to hurry. He forced himself to ease up, tugging himself slow and steady, leaning his head back against the smooth rim of the tub. He could take his time, stay right on the edge as long as he felt like it. Until a knock at the door yanked him back from his hazy bliss.

He sat up in a panic, breathing hard. "Just a second," he shouted. His voice sounded wrecked. Then a glance at the TV made him feel completely ridiculous. The knocking he heard wasn't from his hotel door, it was on TV. He wiped the fog from the glass with his hand to see better. The brunette was walking to the door as he watched. Sam leaned back with a sigh of relief, his heart still racing.

On the porn set, the door swung open to reveal a man in blue coveralls. The dark haired woman, apparently not phased by answering the door in just her lingerie, turned to her partner with an excited smile. "Finally, the plumber's here! Come on in."

The camera zoomed in on the plumber's face. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said suggestively, raising an eyebrow.

Sam felt his mouth drop open. "Holy shit," he whispered.

On screen, the women were inviting the plumber to join them in bed. "The customer is always right," he agreed, "but I may be a tad overdressed." With a snap of his fingers, the coveralls were gone, and he was left standing completely naked, his back to the camera.

Sam just blinked. Was this really happening? To add to his confusion, his erection gave an interested twitch at the sight of the man's firm ass center screen. Sam stared, transfixed.

Now the man was pinned between the two women as they ran their hands over him greedily. He gave a seductive smile as the shot panned up to his face. "Betcha wish you were here right now, don't you?" He looked right into the camera as he said it. He looked right into Sam's eyes.

Sam swallowed hard. He glanced around self-consciously, then back at the TV. "Are you… is this… can you see me?"

The man didn't respond, just closed his eyes blissfully. Sam relaxed a little. Of course. He knew that angels got around when they weren't dealing with world-ending catastrophes, and this wasn't the first he'd known of Gabe's porn career. This was probably just a really awkward coincidence. Sam knew Gabriel was dead; he had seen it happen with his own eyes. Still, as he watched two very stunning women rub themselves against that very responsive angelic body, Sam felt himself smiling. Maybe this was a little gift from the universe. Sam had a lot of regrets, sure, and a lot of what-ifs. Now he was getting one last chance to see Gabriel at his …finest. With a renewed determination, Sam settled back to watch.

Gabe rolled over and ran his fingers through the blonde woman's soft curls. "Do you want me to touch you? Want me to make you feel good?" It was strange, a trick of the camera angle perhaps, but Sam felt like the words were addressed to him. He began stroking himself again, gently, so as not to miss anything important on screen. The angel's voice encouraged him along. "That's it, gorgeous. You're gonna enjoy this."

Sam let out a soft moan. He only felt silly for a moment, but reminded himself that he really was alone. No one would overhear him, no one could tease him about this later.

"Look at you. Fuck-" Gabriel's voice sounded a little rougher now, and it pulled at something in Sam's chest. He let his knees fall further apart, pushing his hips up to meet his fist. "Mmm," the angel moaned appreciatively, looking right into the camera, "there's a sight for sore eyes."

Sam gasped, his toes curling, his thighs clenching. Maybe the water was too hot and it was making him delirious. Maybe he was losing his mind. Again. He ignored that thought and kept going.

Gabe was behind the brunette now, his voice thick, his eyes dark with pleasure. "I bet you taste incredible. I would love to go down on you right now."

"Yeah," Sam moaned. He kept his hand moving in long, steady strokes, trying not to lose his concentration, but it was becoming difficult. Sweat dripped down his neck from his exertion and the heat of the water.

"There you go," Gabe encouraged. "Don't hold back. I want to hear how good that feels. Ah- that's right."

Sam was outright panting now, his whole body starting to tense up as he got closer.

Obviously, the angel was struggling as well. Gabe looked right into Sam's eyes, his chest heaving. "I want to watch you come. For me. Right now." Sam obliged. One desperate cry escaped through clenched teeth, and then he let it all go. Gabriel's shouts of ecstasy met his own, and it was almost too intense. He felt himself plummeting.

Eventually, he drifted back to reality, a sheen of sweat on his face and chest. "That was theeee hottest fucking thing I have ever witnessed," Gabe's voice echoed through the steamy room. "Which, coming from me? Heh!" Sam chuckled, his eyes still closed. "What say we do this again sometime? Tomorrow, perhaps; same bat time, same bat channel. Don't keep me waiting!"

With that, the screen went dark. Confused, Sam sat up. The television was off. He opened the tub drain and stood up, drying himself quickly with a towel from the rack. He was frowning as he walked to the other room to find the remote. Once the screen finally lit up again, it took Sam a moment to realize he was not watching a porn channel. It was an infomercial about detergent.


	2. Graveyard, 2013

"Sam, you're bleeding."

"I'm fine," he muttered. Jody stood behind him as he crouched by the open grave, watching it burn.

He felt her hands on his back as she knelt to get a closer look. "You'd better let me see," she insisted. "Unless you plan on going to a hospital?"

There was no use trying to argue. "The first aid kit is in the trunk."

"Good boy," she teased, patting him on the shoulder as she got up.

It was kind of nice to be worried over, not that he would admit it. While he waited for her to return with the kit, he unbuttoned his flannel, but felt a sharp pain as he tried to take it off. He'd had worse. Much worse. Still, he winced as he tried again.

Then Jody was back and putting her hands on him. "Hey, let me help." She had some folded blankets as well as the box of medical supplies. He watched her spread the blanket on the grass, then direct him to sit on it with her. "The shirt's ruined anyway, hold still." She moved the portable lamp closer, then used the scissors from the kit to cut up through the back of his flannel shirt. Then she did the same to his undershirt.

"You gonna buy me a new one?" He shivered a little as the night air cooled his hot skin.

"If that'll get you to cooperate, sure." She was examining his injury, close enough that he could feel her warm breath on his back. "It's not very deep, but I don't want to take any chances. Hang on." She picked up the bottle of iodine.

"Shit," Sam hissed as the liquid hit the open wound.

Jody rubbed her hand soothing across the other half of his back. "Better?" she asked after a moment. Sam nodded. Her hand kept stroking his warm skin, relaxing him. "You don't need stitches, but I want to get a bandage on that." He nodded again.

As she worked, he bowed his head and let his eyes go shut. She was gentler than Dean at patching him up, he decided. Then he grinned to himself. Of course she was.

When she finished, she scooted around to face him. "Now, was that so bad?" She reached out to pat him playfully on the arm, but somehow her intentions changed mid-motion, her fingers slowed, her eyes lingered over his bare chest.

He watched the shift in her expression. "Not too bad," he agreed. He caught her hand in his. "What about you? Need any patching up?" He noticed how huge his fingers looked compared to hers.

Jody smirked at him, her eyes sparkling mischievously in the firelight. "Nah. But I'm still pretty jazzed," she told him.

Sam swallowed hard. He felt that spark in the air between them, but told himself to wait. He licked his lips, trying to think rationally. "It's the adrenaline," he explained. "Sometimes, after a hunt, it takes a while to-"

Before he could finish, she dove in and shut him up with a kiss. At first he only grunted in surprise, his fingers splaying as she took him off balance. Then his brain caught up and he was kissing her back even harder, pushing her down onto the blanket.

The kiss was rapidly becoming needier and wetter and rougher, both of them grasping frantically at one another. She already had his belt unbuckled and was tugging at his zipper when he pulled her shirt up and off. Then his mouth was on her stomach while she arched up toward him. He worked his way up, unhooking her bra and tossing it aside, gently biting and licking the underside of her breasts. Then he took her nipple into his mouth and sucked hard.

"Fuck, Sam, yes," she moaned.

He smiled darkly and moved to her other breast. When her hand slipped inside his boxer briefs, he gave a choked-off groan, his forehead dropping to her shoulder.

Jody hummed against his ear. "God, Sam! Impressive. I shoulda known."

Sam let out a choked laugh, and lifted his head to see the satisfied grin on her face. Her hand stroked him, bringing a deep, rumbling moan from his chest. He struggled to restrain himself. What he really wanted was to pin down her arms and pound into her against the soft ground beneath the blanket.

A high, buzzing sound made them both freeze. They stared at each other for a second. Then Sam relaxed and Jody laughed. It was his phone. He scowled. Jody's fingers were still wrapped around his dick, and she was half naked beneath him.

"Probably your brother," she offered, not removing her hand. "If you don't answer he'll be worried; might come looking for us."

Sam reluctantly pushed up, moving away from her with a ragged sigh. He stood, digging his phone from his pocket, and swiped to answer. "Hey."

"You guys okay? Get it cooked yet?"

"Medium rare." Sam's voice sounded a bit strangled to his own ears. Jody had stood and kicked off her shoes; now she was stepping out of her jeans.

"Well? You headed back?"

"Um-" Jody was watching him, her hands on her hips. "Not yet, no."

"You need any help? What's goin' on?"

"It's fine, don't wait up." He hung up before Dean could ask any more questions. He tossed his phone to the ground and turned back to Jody. Suddenly he was struck with the weight of the situation. This wasn't just some one-night stand. This was Jody.

She moved closer. "Everything good?"

The distraction had thrown him, and she could see it. He swallowed hard. "I guess, uh-" He rubbed a hand over his face, annoyed with himself. "Not that I don't want ...you. I never-"

A smile had broken across her face, and now she started to laugh. Sam stared at her in confusion. Jody cupped her hands around his face. "Sam Winchester, you are fucking adorable."

He chuckled, dropping his head in embarrassment. "It's just… my relationships end ...badly."

Jody wrapped her arms around his torso, meeting his eyes. "Let's see, my last actual date was with the King of Hell, where I almost died. Oh, and you met my husband."

Sam's face softened. Maybe she had him beat.

"Can't let that stop you," she continued. "I'm a big girl, and you're a big… really big-" she raised her eyebrows comically.

He laughed, his worry starting to fade. He ran his hands over her back.

"Speaking of... you got a condom?"

He dug his wallet from the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a gold square package for her approval, but he pulled it back as she reached for it. "Just one thing, first." He dropped to the ground between her feet. Breathing her in, he rubbed his lips against the thin fabric of her underwear. Then he was tugging them down and off, and dipping his tongue into the warm wetness of her.

"Fuck," she whispered, grabbing fistfuls of his hair for leverage. He slipped his hand up to join his mouth, teasing her with his rough, callused fingers. "Oh, fuuuuck!" she moaned, long and low. He cupped her ass with both hands and moved his tongue through her soft folds in loops and swirls. She was half curled over his head, tugging his hair in encouragement, a constant string of curses falling from her lips. His erection was swelling painfully against his jeans.

Finally he pulled back, both of them gasping for air. Jody slid down against him and kissed him messily, pulling his pants and boxers down over his hips, digging her nails into his thighs for just a second before she straddled him. Then she pressed the little gold square into his hand. "Fuck me, Sam," she whispered against his mouth. He tore open the wrapper and carefully but quickly rolled the condom. Then she was sliding down over him before he could brace himself. A ragged, desperate sound came from both of them as their bodies joined.

Sam felt his mouth drop open as he watched her move. Her skin shone pale and smooth by the flickering fire, the shadows highlighting her scars, her sweat glistening over her muscles in the lamp light. She looked as good she felt, and it was all he could do to hold on to her hips as she rode him. "I'm close," he warned.

"Me too," she gasped. Taking his hand, she moved it between them. He rubbed his thumb against her clit, causing her to throw her head back and cry out even louder. Then she was coming, her body spasming against his, and he thrust up into her with abandon, until his vision was spinning and he was crying out along with her.

They collapsed onto the blanket in a pile of limbs, and lay panting together for a long moment. He wrapped his arm around her, warding off the cool air.

"Man, I needed that," Jody said at last.

Sam kissed her bare shoulder. "You're incredible."

Neither of them moved, until the phone rang again. Dean was worried.


	3. Stanford, 2002

Sam laughed as he slung an arm over Brady's shoulders. He wouldn't be legal drinking age for a year and a half, but this was college, so no one cared. They stumbled down the sidewalk, holding onto each other, neither of them would have been able to find the way home on his own. At least this way, if they got turned around, they weren't alone.

They tripped and laughed through the front door of the little off-campus house. Both had lived in the dorms during freshman year, but over the summer they decided to look for someplace with a little more freedom. Their roommates were almost never around, so they usually had the place to themselves. They could blast music till all hours, have nerf gun wars, or microwave stale pizza for breakfast every day. Sometimes it was still hard for Sam to believe.

Now Sam felt himself tumbling, so he aimed them for for the couch. Brady landed first with an "oomph" with Sam crashing on top of him. They tried to untangle, but they were giggling too much to focus. Sam was laughing so hard that his eyes began to water. Finally they gave up. Brady was half-sprawled across Sam's chest, with one arm pinned in the couch cushions. One of Sam's legs was stuck between the couch and the coffee table, but he couldn't figure out how to free himself. "Damn," Brady said, his voice muffled against Sam's hoodie. The sound just got Sam giggling again.

When they finally sorted themselves out, Brady slapped Sam on the arm. "I told you we'd have a good time, didn't I? Can't let my best friend stay home like a hermit all the time"

"Whatever," Sam grinned. He tossed his head, trying to get his hair out of his eyes. "Tell me that tomorrow when you're hungover."

"I'm not gonna be hungover, loser, I'm not even drunk!" Brady spread out his arms as if to prove his point. He only wobbled a little.

Sam scooted down into the couch with a comfortable sigh. "I didn't have a bad time," he admitted.

"You're lucky I'm here," Brady told him.

"I am," Sam agreed, feeling more sentimental than usual. "I might even miss you over break."

Brady pretended to pout. "Of course you will. It's gonna be boring as hell staying here alone. Should I even bother to ask again if you'll come with me?"

Sam avoided his gaze. "Nah. I can get a head start on next semester. Thanks anyway."

Brady suddenly grew solemn. "Any chance you'll see your family?"

Of course Sam didn't answer.

"Hey, sorry I asked, man. Forget it." He was literally, physically, falling all over Sam to apologize. "Maybe I am a little drunk. Please don't get all quiet and broody." Sam couldn't help but crack a smile. "That's more like it," Brady approved, patting Sam on the cheek.

"I am glad you're here for me," Sam conceded. He was a little surprised when Brady closed the distance and pressed their lips together. The kiss was wet, and a bit awkward, but Sam found himself kissing back.

Brady pulled away, looking down fearfully at Sam, waiting to be punched. Instead, Sam grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him down for another sloppy kiss. It tasted like beer and soda. Before Sam's brain could catch up, Brady was moving down, pushing up Sam's shirt to get to his stomach. Sam's fingers brushed through Brady's short hair. He had half a thought of grabbing him by the hair to stop him, or at least slow him, but instead he tipped his head back and enjoyed the sensation.

This was Brady, the mouth on his bare skin, this was his best friend, hot breath traveling further down, this was his roommate Brady, hands tugging at jeans, this was Brady for God's sake! Sam couldn't bring himself to stop this, didn't need to stop, he actually wanted this to happen, it was happening, he needed it to keep happening. He heard himself whispering encouragement, nonsensical half-drunken praise.

When Brady's tongue made contact with Sam's dick, that's when his brain finally came into focus. This was Brady. His mouth was so warm, and his lips were so soft as they closed around him and sucked. Sam couldn't help bucking up towards him. Brady came up with a cough and an apology. "I have no idea what I'm doing here, man."

Sam was already dragging him up for another kiss. He unbuttoned Brady's jeans as their tongues pressed together, fingers grasping with urgency. Finally, somehow, he freed Brady's erection and they found each other, began sliding against each other, desperate and a little clumsy. Sam was already too far gone, and knowing this was his best friend, his Brady, made the pleasure that much greater. He came with a shout, and Brady was quick to follow, until they were sticky with their combined mess.

Brady collapsed on Sam's chest, still breathing hard. Neither one dared to speak for a few long minutes. Finally Sam pressed a kiss to the top of Brady's head. "I'm really gonna miss you over break," he said, his voice raspy.

They managed to stumble to the tiny bathroom and help each other clean up, then fell asleep on Sam's mattress in just their t-shirts and boxers. When Sam woke up, Brady was already gone. He must have wanted an early start, Sam guessed, since he had a long drive to his parents' house. Maybe this would be better, Sam told himself; they would each have some time to think, and they could figure things out once Brady got back.

He picked up his phone to send a quick text. He deleted the first few tries, and finally decided on something simple, something safe. "Happy Thanksgiving."


	4. Drama Club, 1999

"Truth or dare?" Sam asked with a shy grin. He was squirreled away in the prop room with the rest of the tech crew. The drama instructor wouldn't come looking for them anytime soon, she was too busy chewing out the actors for not being off script yet.

"Truth," answered Megan.

Sam's heart thudded. No way in hell was he going to ask her. He looked nervously around the circle of faces. Russell, the only other boy in the group, scooted forward on the box he was sitting on. "I got one."

All eyes turned to him. Except Sam, who was looking at Megan. She was a senior, and he'd been nursing a crush on her for months. She had pale skin and short, curly black hair that framed her round face.

"Who would you take to the couch?" Russell asked boldly.

Sam's heart dropped into his stomach. The couch was legendary. It was the only piece of furniture the school theater had. When it wasn't on stage, it was pushed into the darkened recesses off stage left. Between shows, it held one sole purpose.

Megan looked his direction, her black curls bouncing around her face as she moved. "Sam," she admitted with a shrug.

He was dead. This was a hallucination because he was dead. It had to be.

Russell giggled. "No, I meant from the whole school, not just us."

"Oh," Megan frowned, adjusting her glasses. "I still pick Sam."

Russell's eyebrows shot up, but Sam didn't notice. He was staring, dumbfounded, still convinced he had died and Megan was a vision from the afterlife. There was no other explanation.

Heidi spoke up from across the room. "Sam, truth or dare?"

"Dare," he choked out.

"I dare you to go to the couch with Megan."

Sam swallowed hard as everyone else ooh-ed. "You don't have to," Russell told him. "We all know Megan's kind of scary." Another girl smacked Russell in the arm with a glare.

Dean's voice came to him then, unbidden, teasing him about his upcoming birthday. "Sweet sixteen and never been kissed," he had teased. Sam couldn't tell his brother than he had too kissed a girl, because then he would have to explain who, when, and every other detail. Sam also couldn't bear to admit that one chaste kiss was all he'd ever done.

Before he could even think, Sam felt himself rising to his feet. "I'm fine with it, as long as Megan is." He had no idea how he managed to sound so confident. Megan was looking up at him with a faint, sweet smile. He offered her his outstretched hand.

Somehow they managed to get all the way to the couch without Sam tripping over his own legs. Megan sat down and smiled at him expectantly. He had pins and needles in his extremities, but he took his place beside her.

"You've never been back here before," she said gently.

"Not with-" his voice had come out too high, almost a squeak. He cleared his throat. "Not like this."

She moved closer, her fingers moving over the back of his hand. "That's sweet." She didn't make it sound condescending. "Did you really want to do this, or were you just being nice in front of Russell?"

"What?" His jaw dropped. "Of course I do! Forget Russell."

Relief washed over her features. "Good." She turned his hand over and intertwined their fingers. "Cause I really wanted to get you back here."

Sam's eyes betrayed him, his gaze drifting to her mouth, which she took as invitation. Sliding sideways onto his lap, she brought her lips to his.

He was reeling. She slid her hands behind his head as she kissed him, gently but urgently. He had imagined this a hundred times, but the real thing was so much better. The weight of her on his legs grounded him in reality. It was all he could do to try to keep up with her. Sam raised both hands to her head, cautiously running his palms over her springy, dark curls. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and he gasped, accidentally tugging a handful of her hair.

Megan pulled back just far enough to look at him. "Was that okay?" He nodded frantically, wrapping his hands around her shoulders. "I really like you, Sam," she told him, before diving back in. His brain started to overload as she rubbed her hip against him.

Carefully, he moved his hand from her shoulder, down over her collarbone, until he was almost to her breast. She placed her fingers over his and slid his hand down that last inch. They both gasped.

Their mouths broke apart. "Sam, you ever gone this far?" He shook his head without thinking. "Do you like me?" He nodded. She kissed him again.

It was his turn to pull back. "I've liked you since my first day here," he whispered, his fingers kneading her soft flesh. "You're so pretty, and funny."

She grabbed him by the wrist and shoved his hand under her top. "Yeah?"

He nodded again. His fingers slid up over the soft roundness of her stomach until he reached her bra. "You're the smartest girl I know. I like the way you laugh." She urged his hand under the lace fabric as she continued grinding against him. He stumbled for more words. "You look cute in those glasses."

Sam had reached the promised land, and it was better than he could have dreamed. Not only was he finally at first base, it was with Megan. She was perfect. It was all too much. Suddenly he was coming in his pants with a choked-off groan. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder, his cheeks burning as he shuddered and twitched.

Megan stoked his face with one hand, finally pulling his chin up so she could look at him. "Wow, Sam, you really like me." She looked bewildered.

He frowned, his chest still heaving. "Of course I do. I told you." His life was over anyway, might as well put a flower on his grave.

She kissed him again, then looked into his eyes. "Want to be my boyfriend?"

He blinked in surprise, then a smile spread across his face. "Yeah, I would."

"Okay." she was beaming too. "You should sneak out of here, go home. I'll cover for you." He didn't move, just kept grinning. Megan leaned in for one more kiss. "See you tomorrow, boyfriend."

As he walked home, Sam was in such good spirits that he wasn't embarrassed about his damp boxers. Not that anyone would notice, but he felt like it was a badge of honor he carried with pride. He unlocked the motel door to find Dean sitting on one of the beds, cleaning a shotgun. "Hey little brother! You're home early."

Sam shrugged. He spotted the bag with his clean laundry and unzipped it to find a change of clothes.

"What are you grinning for?" Dean teased, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Looking up from his bag, Sam met his brother's gaze. "I have a girlfriend."

"No shit!" Dean smiled proudly, and he set down the gun to give Sam his full attention. "Tell me everything."


	5. Motor Inn, 1994

Being eleven years old was the worst. Dean wasn't back yet, and Sammy was stuck in this smelly motel room by himself. Dad would probably be away for a few more days. The stupid television only got two channels, but he didn't dare leave the room and risk Dean coming back to find him gone. Sam was so bored he went to bed early. He hoped that when big-bad-fifteen-year-old Dean finally got back, he'd see his poor, neglected little brother asleep already and would feel just terrible about it.

He lay on his side, facing the wall, pouting. When he heard the doorknob turn, Sammy shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep. That would show Dean.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, not bothering to turn on the light. "You up?"

Keeping still, Sam ignored him.

"He's asleep, come on," Dean whispered. There were footsteps, and the door clicked shut.

Sam opened his eyes, staring at the wall, confused. Was Dad back? Why was Dean whispering? He heard the springs creak on the other bed. Then he heard a soft giggle, and Sam scrunched his eyebrows together. Dean had brought home a girl!

He lay very still, getting madder by the second. Should he sit up and reveal that he wasn't asleep after all? Should he snore very loud and annoying until she left? He kept quiet, seething in his anger. Then he heard something else. Sam held his breath.

The sounds of wet, sloppy kissing came faintly from the other side of the room. Now Sam was pissed. How could Dean do this? How dare he? It was bad enough that Sam had never yet had a girlfriend, while Dean had girls (and grown women) making eyes at him everywhere they went. Now he was rubbing it in Sam's face?

"Dean," the girl moaned.

"Shhh."

All the fight went out of Sam. He lay there, hearing the noises coming from the other bed, but he no longer felt angry. He wasn't sure what he felt.

Another soft moan filled the room, cut short into a muffled grunt. The bedsprings squeaked in quick rhythm.

Sam noticed his pants growing uncomfortable. He grimaced. He tried not to squirm.

Then came a whispered pant: "oh- God!"

He felt his eyes grow wide. That was Dean; he was sure of it.

Suddenly the creaking springs stopped. The only sound was two people gasping for air. Sam squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could. He waited for what felt like hours.

"Let me walk you home." That was the last thing he heard Dean say before the door opened and shut again, and Sammy was once again alone in the motel room. He ran to the bathroom and dealt with his own problem as quickly as he could, his face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and confusion.

He was back in bed before Dean returned for the night. When Dean tiptoed over to check on him, it took all Sam's willpower to keep his breathing slow and steady, pretending he'd been asleep all along.

"Night, little brother," Dean whispered, ruffling Sammy's hair against the pillow.


End file.
